


Phantom Shorts

by Nobody419



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Adorable dorks, Gen, Not Phantom Planet Compliant, Prompts from allover, Shuddap! They're cute!, slice of life-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobody419/pseuds/Nobody419
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I miss this show so much so I guess this is how I cope. Here you go, internet! Enjoy! Comment with prompts if you want to see your idea written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bacon

On most days, Sam was proud of her friends—remaining unfaltering and loyal to each other through the hell of high school, she defending them against the jocks and bitches who knew not to mess with her. And she could be proud of them; Tucker was a slacker who hid how intelligent he was with a laid back attitude and a desperation for a significant other in his life and Danny was more observant and perceptive than he let on, able to see new angles with a kind of view that was overly optimistic and unique that had been groomed through years of bullying—and that was without the selfless heroism he proved true to every night his sacrificed his sleep and his grades for the safety of the town. So yeah, on most days, Sam was proud of her friends; today was not one of them.   
Staring at the spectacle with an unrivaled level of incredulity, she watched as—instead of joining their peers in screaming and running for their lives—Tucker turned his wide and saddened eyes longing after their lunch which had abruptly flown out the window. Immediately recognizing the calling card of the Lunch-lady ghost, Sam waited for Danny to crawl under a table or request some kind of cover from her or Tucker so he could transform and kick ghostly behind; instead, he laid a sympathetic hand—that was a touch too theatrical to be taken seriously—on Tucker’s shoulders and tried to soothe him as the bacon that had been served per request of the students for a breakfast for lunch meal flew out the window.   
“I am so sorry about that, Tucker,” Danny commiserated seriously while Tucker gazed mournfully down at the empty plate that had, just a mere moment ago, held a steaming plate of aromatic bacon before it glowed, levitated and growled as it soared towards the Lunch-lady from where she cackled outside.   
Blinking for a second, as if to double take and ensure that Danny was really there, Sam’s eyes twitched before she opened her mouth. “Danny, are you ser-”  
Raising his head to scowl reproachfully up at Sam, Danny frowned at her as if she had just done something unspeakably rude. “Sam, a moment please,” he reprimanded as he and Tucker bowed their heads in grieving; this left Sam torn between a desire to scream, to break out laughing or to make Danny’s ghostly situation more permanent curtesy of a murder behind the school that afternoon.   
Settling to grit her teeth and let out a strained scream through a clenched jaw while glaring with at the ceiling, Sam let herself wallow in the frustration of her friends’ stupidity—they were mourning the loss of a bacon strip—before grabbing the Fenton thermos and storming out; upon passing, she looped an arm around Danny’s and dragged him out behind her, even as he protested and called for Tucker. Grabbing a fistful of Danny’s shirt, Dash Baxter style, she leveled his ice blue eyes with her cold violet ones. “Ghost,” she identified helpfully, jabbing a stiff index finger out the window. “Fight,” she commanded, shoving the Fenton Thermos roughly against his stomach. “Get it?”  
“Got it…” Danny weakly managed, cowering under the purple hued death gaze that was currently liquefying his kidneys.   
Smiling humorless, Sam shoved Danny out the doors and towards the meat suited ghost. “Good,” she snapped curtly, slamming the door behind him. Turning slowly, she drew a certain kind of satisfaction from the terror in Tucker’s eyes as he cringed from the fury on her face. Stalking up to him, a thrill of amusement made the corners of Sam’s lips quirk upwards in a smirk. As she leaning closer, Tucker shook at the impending punishment and screwed his eyes shut until she stopped and jabbed a painfully well-manicured midnight colored nail in his chest. “Get your priorities straight, Meat Lover,” she growled threateningly, before dragging him out behind her with a Fenton Laser Lipstick and a collapsible Fenton Bazooka in tow.


	2. Sheet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is mad but not really.

“You have got to be kidding me…” Danny muttered, shooting Sam a murderous glare that silently vowed future revenge as she extended her arms and draped a bedsheet over his head; adjusting and turning the sheet slightly so that Danny’s furious blue eyes were lined up with the pair of holes she had cut out in the front.   
When Sam had showed up at Danny’s front door on Halloween, he had assumed it was because of the horror movie marathon they would have in his backyard per tradition, stringing up a sheet and breaking out a projector to connect to Tucker’s PDA while they terrified themselves out of their minds while eating a mind numbing amount of popcorn and candy. What he had not expected, was the mischievous grin on Sam’s face that could rival the Cheshire cat as she produced a second sheet that she threw over his head; the cruel and ironic joke was not lost on him but he had yet to find the humor in it and the reason behind why Sam was biting the inside of her cheek so hard as she tried to keep from laughing.   
Smiling in amusement at the pout that was hidden behind the white sheet, Sam took a step backwards to admire her work. “Dear Lord, you are terrifying,” she teased in a monotone as she grinned widely.   
Danny’s jabbed a finger outwards in her direction. “I will personally sick Cujo on you,” he threatened.   
Rather than be angered or scared at the prospect of dealing with the ghost dog, Sam burst out laughing; the finger that Danny had pointed at her was nothing more than a harmless nub protruding out of the sheet—it only seemed to add to the cartoony and lighthearted appearance. Danny’s scowl deepened as he lowered his arm and she continued to giggle on the front steps of his house…and then Tucker arrived.   
“Hey dude! Ready for a horror movie mara-”  
Freezing steps away from the front door, Tucker—decked out in a Tron costume a little too tight for its own good—gaped at Danny disbelievingly. Finally, able to react Tucker pursed his lips together in a horribly hidden smile as he held his breath in an attempt to keep from laughing.   
Realizing this, Danny stuck out an accusing finger and glared more fiercely at his best friends. “Don’t you dare!” he warned.   
Processing the innocent, accusatory nub in the sheet where his hand should have been, Tucker had a half-second of self-control before he and Sam burst out laughing, in hysterics as Danny glowered at them.   
Enduring a few more seconds of his friends in stitches, Danny rolled his eyes—even though he still had yet to tug off the bedsheet. “Screw you guys,” he announced before turning and marching back into his living room, leaving the door open so his friends could come in after him if they wanted.   
Sam chewed her bottom lip in an effort to stop sniggering long enough to giddily hush Tucker before they waited. Danny’s annoyed yell and Jazz’s laughter sounded a few seconds later, provoking a fresh series of snickers from the other ghost fighting teens as they wandered in after Danny to get as much mileage out of this joke as possible.


	3. Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My poor, sleep deprived children.

It was decided by Tucker a long time ago that 5-Hour Energy was God’s gift on this earth.   
While Tucker liked complaining—though it was more for the attention it got him rather than the satisfaction of whining—it was getting old to complain about how little sleep they’d gotten since the beginning of their ghost fighting career. Admittedly, in the beginning anyway, they had rushed home at their curfews and been in bed out of fear that their lives would otherwise suffer; those concerns had long since been abandoned as Tucker and Sam became familiar with the fire escapes of their buildings and Danny had grown used to quickly flying them home before practically crashing into his room himself. So when Tucker discovered 5-Hour Energy and the caffeinated boost it gave him, he began to frequently drink it to wash down his breakfast on the way to school. Sam focused on energizing incenses that she placed around her room in the morning, preferring a more natural approach to waking up in the morning. But Danny had yet to find his solution; he hated the taste of 5-Hour Energy and coughed on Sam’s incense—and that worried Tucker.   
Because even though Tucker was all for defending the town and liked complaining about his lack of sleep for what little attention he got because of it, he knew something was seriously wrong with their lives when they could count the hours of sleep they had gotten on one hand and sometimes have fingers to spare.   
Tucker was snapped out of his wistful daydreams of his bed when Lancer slapped the white board with his marker, emphasizing a few key points that were prominent in Chapter Six of Interpreter of Maladies. Sinking back in his chair slightly, he glazed over the notes that they all had taken the night before at two a.m. thanks to the glorious Internet. Smiling slightly in a sleep deprived stupor, Tucker paid attention long enough to circle the sentence that Lancer announced was “vital to the comprehension of the concealed existential messages the author was trying to convey” while trying to hold back a yawn. Normally, Tucker would have found the book pretty interesting and actually listened to Lancer; instead, Tucker was trying not to find the academic drone lulling as his head dipped wearily above his desk.   
Since becoming ghost fighters, the three had long since figured out the school system and what it took to pass. Websites like Spark Notes were handy in English while YouTube channels like Crash Course and online learning sites like Khan Academy helped with pretty much everything else. Test taking was easier with rapid studying via notecard the nights before and basic common sense during the exams—eliminate the stupid answers and pick the most likely of what remains. But that only worked if they were awake. Remedying the situation by assuming inconspicuous seats at the back, all three of them were growing used to sleeping in class; Sam had even brought a neck pillow on a few occasions. Danny was less subtle.   
Shooting his best friend a sympathetic glance, Tucker noticed that yet again Danny had fallen asleep; he pursed his lips unhappily as he watched his friend’s fingers twitch and his eyes flutter in a fitful nap he desperately needed. Danny’s forehead creased as his eyebrows were habitually drawn into a frown and his mumbled something against the crook of his elbow. Reaching over out of habit, Tucker propped Danny’s book up to hide his face as he continued to breathe evenly—his head resting on his folded arms as a pillow; yet another reason to be worried—it was becoming way too normal for them to fall asleep in class.   
But somehow, when Tucker worriedly looked up again at Mr. Lancer to see if he was succeeding in covering for Danny, the teacher caught his eye—making the geek freeze up in panic still halfway leaned across the desk aisle. For a second, Tucker was sure they would get outed. Instead, Mr. Lancer turned to Dash Baxter and asked him which sentence in the second paragraph was a repeat of the third sentence in the fifth paragraph on the previous page and what the point the author was trying to emphasize by repeating that statement.   
Smiling in giddy relief, Tucker glanced over at Sam—who had watched everything from her favorite seat in the back corner beside him—and they grinned appreciatively at each other; when you could count how many hours you had slept on one hand with a few fingers to spare, you deserved every precious second you got.


	4. Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danielle is a cinnamon roll and should be protected at all costs.

After the awkward and stuttered explanation that was a little too disjointed to follow—which might have been why it was accepted—Maddie smiled sweetly down at the girl who looked like a younger twin of Danny’s. “Well, Danielle, we’re more than happy to have you for dinner. Actually, since you’ll be staying for a while, make that dinners. ”   
Jack, losing interest now that everything was settled, grinned down at the younger girl who was remarkably more petite by comparison. “Hope ya like fudge! I’m gonna go work on the Spector Speeder!” he announced before marching downstairs to the lab in all his neon orange jumpsuit glory.   
Smiling fondly after her husband, Maddie turned back to the two “cousins”. “Kids, I’m going to go help Jack. Could you please set the table? Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Danielle, sweetie, we’re having meatloaf. It’s already in the oven so don’t worry about it.”   
Keeping her hands folded politely in front of her, Dani nodded in a half bow before beaming warmly up at Maddie. “Of course. Thank you again for having me, Mrs. Fenton.” She had brushed up on her manners and was on extra good behavior due to her nervousness; but Maddie was nice and Dani liked her so she was beginning to relax.   
Already growing fond of the polite young girl that she was glad to be hosting, the ghost hunting mother’s smile widened. “Please, dear. It’s Maddie,” the hostess chided warmly before turning and beginning to trek downstairs. “Jack! You’d better not be charging the ecto-super capacitors without me! You don’t know how to!” A loud bang from downstairs made her rush a little more quickly to the lab’s entrance.   
Danny was about to make a move for the silverware drawer when his cousin leaned closer with confusion and worry etched into her young face as she childishly tugged at his sleeve for attention. “Danny? What does set the table mean?” she whispered nervously, her fingers picking at the fraying edges of her hoodie.   
Freezing at the question, Danny stared down at his cousin in open shock. “Oh…uh…” For a few moments, Danny couldn’t move or even react as he stared idiotically at her. He found it somehow strange that Dani had no idea what common saying or phrases like that meant and realized that he had forgotten, once again, that Danielle hadn’t actually had a childhood or a parent of any kind—Vlad certainly didn’t count—and being born at the age of twelve without any real memories other than some base knowledge. She didn’t have any kind of upbringing.   
“Well…you, um. It’s easy. It basically means to get the table ready for food,” Danny supplied, forcing a smile as he wandered over to the silverware drawers. Danielle trailed after him quietly, looking baffled —it unsettled Danny to see such a confident girl look so…lost. “That means we put out the plates and the utensils and the place mats. All that stuff.” He opened a cabinet as he spoke, pulling out the aforementioned mats, double checking the count and bringing them out, draped over one arm. “Here,” he offered. “Put one of each on the table in front of each chair.”  
Danielle brightened and nodded happily, scooping up the mats and focusing on the command. Danny watched her quietly, absently pulling out the forks and knives and promising that he would make up for what Danielle never got.


	5. Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These damn cream puffs making me emotional when they aren't even real.

It was Saturday which meant a few things; since Danny was up it was at least after 11, the ghosts hated being out in broad daylight ever since being shamed by Danny the time Jack accidentally released them all (now, if they were gonna be humiliated it would be where they wouldn’t have an audience), their parents were probably at another safety meeting or blowing something up on the other side of town and Jazz was either at the park or listening to a lecture at the local university. The ghost children were home alone.  
When Danny came downstairs, his hair styled by his pillow and flattened on one side of his face, he had to smile as he peered in and watched his cousin—sitting in an oversized t-shirt of his dad’s and some of Jazz’s shorts—begin making her breakfast. Her mane of wild black hair was tamed by one of Jazz’s older headbands—a gray one—though her bangs still fell out and she occasionally blew at them distractedly. She was making cereal. And though, it was a mundane task, Danny had to stare. Dani sat at their kitchen table, pouring milk into her bowl of Spooky O’s on the table, concentrating so hard on getting the perfection ratio that her tongue was poking out. And for just a moment, Danny could stand in the doorway and pretend things were normal. Appearing satisfied, Dani capped the milk and set it on the table, beginning to crunch on the cereal.  
“Hey.”  
She glanced up as Danny sleepily wandered onto the tiles to join her. He pulled out the orange juice from the fridge and set down with an unceremonious plunk on the table. “Want some OJ?”  
She smirked drowsily, still waking up as well. “Orange juice with milk? What is this madness?” she snickered.  
“This madness is organic and pulp free and good,” Danny retorted, chugging down his first glass and critically eyeing his selection of bananas. He watch in the corner of his eyes as Danielle shrugged and returned to scooping out her Spooky O’s, chasing the strays with her spoon. Danny grinned faintly, watching her concentrate and seeing his cousin instead of a ghostly clone of his ectoplasm. For a moment, things were normal.


End file.
